Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry, past Draco/Astoria and Harry/Ginny, background Ron/Hermione, James Sirius/Teddy
Word Count: ~1,200/21,000
Content/Warnings: past relationship, wanking, sexual fantasy, anal fingering, anal sex, tattoos
Summary: Twenty-five years later, Harry and Draco find their way back to one another.
Read on AO3
The Italian restaurant was cosy and thoughtfully decorated, all dark mahogany and warm, neutral colours. It was thoroughly Muggle, far away from the wizarding areas of the city. Harry loved it. He'd come here a few time with friends and family in the past, when he hadn't wanted to deal with the press and crowds.
Now, though, the restaurant seemed to take on a different quality as Harry sat across the table from Draco Malfoy. The lighting was low, the music gently wafted through the air, and the surrounding chatter was hushed and almost reverent, making it feel like Draco and Harry were in their own little world. It was unbearably intimate, the type of setting that begged for clasped hands and entwined legs and longing, heated glances.
"Still hiding, I see." Draco broke the heated silence with a pointed glance around the room. It clearly hadn't escaped his notice that Harry had brought him to a discreet Muggle restaurant for their first date. Despite his words, Harry knew Draco didn't really mind.
"There's a difference between hiding and privacy. I'm not ashamed of this, of us, but I'd like to give us a chance to see where things go before we bring the whole world in on our private business."
Draco's lips stretched into a smile and he tilted his head in acknowledgement. Harry felt a strange rush of triumph. His gaze roamed over Draco's immaculate form, the midnight blue dress shirt that made Draco's hair and skin glow, the artful styling of his hair and his ever-sharp eyes. They'd seemed softer somehow, hidden behind stylish frames in Draco's office, as if the lenses had gentled the lines on him.
"How long have you worn glasses?"
Draco pursed his lips. "Several years now. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."
"They suit you. You should wear them more often."
"I only need them for reading."
Harry grinned. "That's a pity." Draco's cheeks darkened prettily.
"Alright, I've gone, now it's your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"Your turn to tell me something new. Tell me something about you that's different since we...parted ways. It's been over twenty years, I'm sure that plenty has changed."
Apparently not my feelings for you, Harry thought, though he wisely kept that to himself.
"Well….I have children now."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Something I don't already know."
"Hmm…" Harry swirled the wine around in his glass as he thought. "I have a tattoo now."
Draco's eyes darkened noticeably and Harry shivered in response.
"Oh?" Draco's voice had dropped an octave. "Don't leave me in suspense."
His predatory gaze was a shock to Harry's system. "Yeah, I've got several, actually, but they're all part of the same design on my upper arm and shoulder."
"What did you get?" Draco's voice was still heated, but there was a softness there, too, as if he could tell that the tattoos meant something to Harry.
"Things that were important to me, that shaped me." Harry looked over at Draco and grinned, letting the faintest hint of wicked promise linger at the corners of his mouth. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll get to see them later."
Draco sucked in a breath, grey eyes drowning in black before he pulled himself back together. "As you say."
The waiter brought over plates of baked ziti and garlic bread and lasagna, but the food did nothing to dissipate the tension crackling between them. The air felt thick with unsaid words and unspoken promises.
Harry knew he wasn't the only one who felt it. They were both staring just a little too long, fingers brushing far too often over the basket of garlic bread. Harry felt Draco's gaze upon him like a physical caress, and he wanted.
"This is...far more intense than I'd been expecting," Draco admitted, after a particularly heated glance. "I don't know why I'd thought it wouldn't be. You've always had a talent for making me lose my head."
That talent was definitely mutual; Harry already felt half out of his mind with wanting to touch. "Nothing we can't handle," Harry said, not believing a single word. He knew that they should wait, that they should take things slow as they learned how to be together again. Harry wasn't sure he could wait that long. He wanted Draco now.
Harry reached for his water, hands shaking as memories and fantasies overwhelmed him: him and Draco together, naked and writhing. Harry entire body was literally trembling with the force of his need. Draco watched him with a quiet, steady hunger that made Harry's stomach clench.
What felt like hours later they finally finished eating. Like they had at lunch, they walked together to a nearby alley to Disapparate.
The air was still charged between them, none of the tension dispersing under the broad night sky. Harry knew he should say his goodbyes and head back to Grimmauld Place alone, carrying the memory of Draco's hair glowing under the streetlamps. He'd have a spectacular wank, and then he'd send an owl over to Draco in the morning, asking him on another date. That was the smart thing to do, the practical thing.
Draco was close enough that Harry could see the smooth texture of his skin, the faint wrinkles around his eyes that betrayed Draco's cool and stony facade. His eyes were intent on Harry's and just like before, Harry felt that same bone deep pull towards Draco. He swayed forward, and this time, Draco swayed too, until their lips were meeting tremulously in the middle.
The first brush of their lips was tentative, questioning, but it didn't stay that way for long. The dam of their desire had burst, and every last ounce of feeling came flooding out, pulling and pressing them together in a violent crashing current. Draco's mouth felt different, strong and commanding, his lips firmer, his experience more evident. They kissed with everything they had, all the frustration and longing, all the hurt and passion. Draco shoved Harry back against a brick wall, and Harry let him. His knees felt shaky and weak, his head swam from lack of oxygen, but Draco's lips felt more essential than standing, more essential than breathing.
Harry didn't know how long they stood there kissing against that dirty wall in the alleyway, but it was long enough for the first flush of furious passion to slip into something slower and hotter, something sensual and wicked and full of filthy intent. Draco pulled back, their lips so reluctant to part that he didn't go far. He hovered in front of Harry, their breaths mingling, eyes lost in each other's gazes.
He knew he should leave, but Harry didn't want to. Harry wanted everything that kiss had promised. He was hard, unbearably turned on, and all he wanted was Draco. It would take a man made of steel to walk away now.
"Come home with me." Harry hardly recognised the smokey, lust-infused tone of his voice.
Draco stared at him for long moments, and Harry felt a tiny pebble of fear begin to work itself down his throat. Maybe this was too fast, maybe he'd just scared Draco off.
"Alright," Draco murmured. Harry's eyes widened. "Will you do the honors?" Draco held out his arm in a blatant offer.
Harry's heart thudded as he took hold of Draco's bicep, and thought of Grimmauld Place.